There is Always Something There to Remind Me
by Carlisle Cooperative
Summary: The Doctor and Rose go to a wedding. Ultracuteness involving cars, relatives, and edible ball bearings ensues. Oh, and there's a bit of snogging, too. Well, a bit more than snog. Due to technical difficulties, this is a reposting!
1. Chapter 1

Life was best in the TARDIS when Rose was happy. There was something a tad disconcerting about that. It used to be that life was best in the TARDIS, period. Used to be, give him the TARDIS, time and space to roam through, a few spare parts to tinker with, and life was at its pinnacle. Its zenith. Its best.

That was no longer the case. If Rose Tyler wasn't happy, he could be at the most exciting point in space and time, he could have all the spare parts in the world, and his life would be miserable.

And this was why he was going to Cousin Mo's wedding.

It had started out simply enough. They were visiting a planet known for its beautiful beaches. His master plan was to pretend not to notice Rose prancing around in a bikini. They were quite comfortably set up on a beach blanket. She was impressed he had ditched the jacket and tie. He had also rolled up his trouser legs and shirt sleeves.

Specs on, he had a book in hand. If anyone was paying attention, they would have noticed it had been on the same page for the past 20 minutes, the reason being the blonde water nymph emerging from the sea.

She sat next him, making sure to sprinkle him as she settled in. "Oi! Is that really necessary?"

"You were entirely too dry. You really should go out there. The water is lovely." She picked a bottle out from the bag they had brought with them. "Do you mind? I can't reach to put the sun crème on my own back."

Well, he certainly wasn't one to miss an opportunity like that. With slow, deliberate strokes, he rubbed the lotion in. He smirked to himself as she moaned in appreciation when his fingers dug a bit deeper. He timidly tried to work around where the top was held together. All the blood left his head for another part of his anatomy when she undid said top and turned to look at him. With a wink she said, "So you don't miss spot."

When he could think again, he continued his ministrations. Somehow they both ended up on their stomachs, with Rose reading aloud from his book as he stroked her bare back. He now knew that this was life at its pinnacle. Its zenith. Its best.

She finished the chapter and set the book down. He set his glasses next the book. He thought she was asleep and was about to join her (casually leaving his hand on her back, which was in no way a possessive gesture) when she decided to make the day take a down turn. "I should call Mum."

He groaned and rolled away from her, using his arm to cover his eyes, leaving her to it. He half-way listened to the conversation. As usual, it consisted of a series of 'Yes Mum's', 'I know Mum's', 'He does not's', and the like.

He started pondering that Jackie Tyler could talk for England and if the judges didn't award her with a medal, she'd slap them. The things he put up with for Rose. She really should appreciate him more. After all, he was a Time Lord, the last of them. As such he should be treated with respect.

He kept his soliloquy going in head, just getting to the part where she should feed him grapes on a daily basis when he noticed she wasn't talking at all. He shifted his arm and looked at her with one eye. He hid his disappointment at the fact that she had sat up and fixed her top. Then he looked at her face.

Oh no. She had that look. The "I want you to do something and I know exactly what to do to get you to do it" look. Well, it wasn't going to work this time. He was going to stand firm. He was not going to give in.

"Doctor? You remember my cousin Mo, right? Well, Mum said she's getting married and that the wedding is next week, by her time line anyway. I told her there was no way I-- well, we--could make it as we didn't know where we would be. She then casually mentioned that she brought me into this world and could take me out of it. And that if you didn't get me there, that she would do the same to you, alien or not. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I have a wedding to go to and you're taking me."

"No." He was quite proud of himself. Simple answer that she would have to accept.

"But…"

"No, Rose. As you said, we're much too busy. Besides, why celebrate something that would mostly likely end in disaster. Do you know what the divorce rate is currently?" By now he was sitting up as well. He looked at her, certain that the matter was settled.

She blinked once. She placed a hand on his arm and looked directly in his eyes. "Please."

She hadn't whined or batted her eyelashes. However, what she did was enough. He was so ashamed of himself. "Oh alright. Let's pack up." It was worth it for the smile she gave him and the kiss on the cheek that followed.

Once they arrived back at the TARDIS, she ran off for a quick shower while he set the coordinates. He waited until she returned to actually put them into flight.

"What kind of a name is Mo, anyway?" he grumbled, as he flipped dials about.

Rose watched him. He looked sulky. And she didn't trust him. "'Least she's got a name. You're sure we'll land in plenty of time for Mo's wedding?"

He looked affronted. "Rose, have I ever—" He cut himself off at her glare, and scratched the back of his head. "Plenty of time, yes."

"Because I've got to have time to change into the dress Mum's got for me, yeah?"

"We've got an entire wardrobe full of dresses for you, right here. I don't know what's so special about this particular dress."

"Mo picked it out 'specially for me to wear. And if we don't get home in time for me to wear that particular dress…" Rose paused for maximum impact. "You'll have to listen to my mum."

The Doctor sighed heavily. "Landing," he proclaimed, as if he would rather be doing almost anything else. Really, the sacrifices he made for Rose Tyler.

Rose braced herself automatically, but it was an almost gentle landing. She leapt up and threw open the door.

And Jackie Tyler's strident tone carried inside to him. "Ooh, right on time! Perfect!"

'Perfect,' thought the Doctor, frowning at the TARDIS. _Now_ she bloody decided to listen and take him exactly when he told her to go.

The Doctor strode out of the TARDIS, squinting in the extremely bright sunshine. Jackie was hugging Rose and mithering on about how she should go back to the flat to change. "I've got to run to Mo's, help her get ready. But your cousin Alfred's left you his car." She thrust keys into Rose's hand and enveloped her in another bear hug. "Mind you're not late." She turned to him and blinked, drawing herself up short, her whirlwind of activity momentarily halted.

The Doctor looked over his shoulder. The TARDIS interior? Is that what had stopped her in her tracks? But she'd seen it before. Why should that bother her? He looked back at her in bewilderment. "What?" he asked, self-consciously. "What is it?"

"Aren't you coming along to the wedding?" she said, sounding surprised.

"Coming along to the wedding? Of course I'm coming along to the wedding!" He may have been sulking about it, but the thought had never crossed his mind that he wouldn't go with Rose to the wedding. Rose, by herself, undoubtedly looking illegally beautiful in whatever this dress was, surrounded by single-minded, predatory human males—No, no, no. The thought was not to be contemplated. He was going with Rose to this wedding.

Jackie wrinkled her nose. "Well, you can't wear _that_."

The Doctor was horrified. "Can't wear what?"

"That dirty, old suit."

"I love this suit! And it's not dirty!"

"It's a formal wedding," she informed him, with more primness than he would have imagined Jackie Tyler could muster. She turned to Rose. "If you're bringing him, get him into a tuxedo."

"Yes, ma'am," Rose promised, playfully.

"I've got to go." Jackie scurried off, throwing back, "Don't be late!"

Rose looked over at him, her eyes bright with amusement. And she was smiling. That smile where that little tip of tongue poked out between her teeth, teasing him. "I'm s'posed to get you into a tux. How should we manage that, do you think?"

Oh, he had a few ideas. Most of which ended up with him out of the tux and her out of the dress and both of them missing the wedding. However, the wrath of Jackie was enough to keep such thoughts tucked away for future reference.

He huffed in exasperation. "You go get into that dress your 'Cousin Mo' has demanded you wear. I'll be ready when you get back." Rose looked at him, disappointment in her eyes. "Oh, fine, get your dress and get ready in the TARDIS. Chop chop, don't want your mother coming after me after for making you late after I went through all that trouble to get you here on time!"

Rose began to walk away. "We both know it was the TARDIS that got me here on time, not you." She laughed when he looked affronted. As he beat a hasty retreat into the TARDIS, he heard Rose's voice throw one last barb. "A tuxedo from earth! Not that horrid contraption from dinner last week!"

He pushed the door to a bit harder than necessary before turning to head up the ramp and further into the TARDIS. It wasn't his fault he'd not been attired correctly for their dinner on Wiflolfiw; the last time he'd been there, the restaurant had been a tiki bar. And it certainly wasn't his fault that the maître d' had provided the most outlandish version of 'formal attire' he'd ever seen in his life. He was fairly sure he'd found and deleted all of the pictures she'd managed to take with her camera phone, but he'd have to check to be doubly sure.

A half-hour later, he was just getting out of the bath when the door to his room banged open. Shrieking, he leapt a foot in the air as he hastily wrapped a towel around him. "Rose!"

She had stopped halfway into his room, eyes wide and jaw slack. She squeaked "Sorry. Thought you…thought you…" She was turning scarlet and suddenly became fascinated by the ceiling. "Well it's not my fault you left the door to the bath open!" She turned around to face away from him, and continued. "Thought you'd be ready by now. Been a half hour, and besides I needed help doin' up my dress."

He had been reaching for his ratty old flannel robe when her last words caught his attention. The back of her dress was, indeed, unzipped. Creamy flesh extended in a deep vee from the nape of her neck, down past her shoulder blades to her waist, ending in a sharp point just above the swell of her bum. He didn't think such a simple thing had ever seemed so _erotic_. He shook his head. "_Jackie. Jackie. Jackie_." He whispered the name of the object of desire's mother to himself as he snatched the robe off the hook. Dropping the towel as he wrapped himself in the robe, he continued on into his room. Rose was still facing away from him, and appeared to be openly examining his room.

"Rose." She started as he reached out to do up her dress, one hand on her shoulder, the other reaching down to grab the pull of the zip and lead it on the long journey up her back. He savoured the feel of her warmth through the lace of the dress; the red of it setting her fair skin and blonde hair off stunningly. Finished zipping her up, he asked the question that had been playing on his mind. "How'd you manage to get ready before me?!"

Rose turned to him, slightly breathless and cheeks pink. "I'd showered earlier, remember? While you—well, the TARDIS—was getting us here on time? And look at you!" She grabbed one of his hands, still tingling from zipping her dress up. "You've got prune hands! What were you doing for so long in the bath?"

He paused; he really didn't want to answer that question. "I was sandy. Sticky stuff, sand. Gets everywhere." Perhaps that wasn't the best way to answer the question—it could lead to places he wanted to go, but didn't have time to. "Right, had to get squeaky clean. Formal wedding, penguin suit, couldn't have dirt hiding in my ears, could I? Had to take special care!"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Well, you'd best get dressed in a pinch because we're going to be late otherwise." She looked at him appraisingly before suddenly raising her hand and stroking the back of it along his jaw. "You shaved."

Was it just him whose breath had hitched with her statement? Rose seemed to catch herself, and backed away a step. "Get dressed, you. I'll just go do my makeup, yeah, and then be back."

The scent of her perfume lingered as she left the room. Focus, the Doctor told himself firmly. All that is, was, and ever could be in his head at all times, and it was the scent of Rose's perfume that managed to short-circuit his brain. He donned the tuxedo and attempted—three times—to tie the bowtie correctly, before he diagnosed the problem. He _could_ tie a bowtie. Of course he could. He could do everything. He didn't _want_ to tie the bowtie. Nope--much, much better to ask Rose to tie the bowtie for him.

"Good plan," he told his reflection, approving, and headed out of his room, down the hall to Rose's room. Her door was standing open, although she didn't appear to be in the room. He knocked anyway, calling her name.

"Uh-huh," she called back, from the direction of the en suite. .

The Doctor walked across her room to the open bathroom door and poked his head in. She was applying mascara, the taunting tip of tongue once again peeking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. He decided not to focus on her mouth, dropped his eyes instead.

_How short was that skirt? What sort of dress was this?_ He wondered, letting his eyes run very slowly up the length of her bare legs. Completely inappropriate for a wedding, he thought. Completely inappropriate, period. He ought to lock Rose in this room and refuse to let her out looking like this.

His eyes halted, irritated, as they hit the point on her thigh where the skirt fell and began obstructing his view. That settled it, he thought. He just wouldn't let Rose out looking like this. He'd lock them _both_ in this room. If he had to, he had to. He glanced over his shoulder, calculating the distance to her bed.

"Did you want something?"

He looked back at her, startled at the interruption. _Well,_ he thought. _Now that you mention it…_ "Um," he said.

She capped the mascara and tossed it negligently on the counter. "Need me to do your bowtie for you?" She smiled at him, closed the distance between them, and reached for his bowtie. Her eyes focused on it, on whatever acrobatics her fingers were performing to turn the silly piece of cloth into a proper bowtie. And this left him free to stare at her unabashedly, to just absolutely wallow in the scent of her, to let the gentle sounds of her inhales and exhales stroke at him. "There," she said, far too soon, taking a step away to survey her handiwork. Then she met his eyes, grinning. "Not bad. You'll do."

"Will I?" he asked, more anxiously than he had intended. He knew he did that sometimes, when she teased him, because there was a part of him that wanted to know that she wasn't entirely teasing, that she meant it. No, there was a part of him that _needed_ to know she meant it.

And he thought she understood. Because she said, firmly, looking straight into his eyes, "Yes. Let's go."

"Go?" he echoed, in alarm, as she gave him a gentle shove to clear the doorway for her.

"Yeah." She walked past him, picking up a small clutch purse and dropping some lip gloss and her mobile into it.

"I'm not ready yet," he protested.

"You look ready."

"I have to do my hair," he whined.

She laughed, which, if he was going to be honest, hurt his feelings a little bit. "We don't have time," she said, leaning over to snag a pair of red strappy heels off the floor.

"You got to primp and preen and—" he complained.

"You should _not_ take longer than me to get ready." She walked back over to him, shoes swinging in her hand, still looking amused. "It's not very manly."

"Oi! That's not—"

She reached out with the hand not holding her shoes and ruffled at his hair, combing it this way and that. His jaw dropped in astonishment. He forgot entirely how to breathe. "There you go," she said. "All set. Your hair is done. You look…" Her eyes left his hair, met his, and she trailed off. He wished his senses weren't reeling, because he wasn't quite sure that it wasn't his imagination that she had also stopped breathing.

The Doctor clutched at something to say. Something brilliant, something witty. Something that would make it worthwhile for them to risk the wrath of Jackie and just stay in.

He definitely was not imagining the fact that her gaze had just dropped to his mouth. Forget _saying_ something. Just _kiss_ her.

"You look fine. Let's go," she said, breathlessly, stepping away from him.

He took a deep breath, tried to think of something mundane to say, as he followed her out of her room. "What are those?" He nodded toward the sandals in her hand.

"They're going to be my shoes."

"Going to be? And what are they at the present moment?"

"Well, I can't wear them while I'm driving, can I?"

"Why do we have to drive there? Why can't we just take the TARDIS?"

"We're going to arrive there in a car. Like a normal co—Like normal people."

The Doctor made a face to indicate what he thought of normality. Then he drew himself up short. "Wait a second—Did you say _you_ were driving?"

Stopping suddenly, Rose turned to face him. "Of course I am! It's my cousin's car. And can you even find your way around my neighbourhood without using the TARDIS?" Just as suddenly, she turned and continued her brisk walk towards the outside world and Cousin Alfred's car. The Doctor, who had stopped when Rose had, had to lightly jog to catch up.

"But…you can't drive!" he whined as he walked out the door of the TARDIS. He ran full tilt into the soft curves of Rose; it seemed she had stopped right outside the door to look for something. Suddenly coming to a decision about whatever it was that had stopped her, she set off to their right, the Doctor trailing after like a puppy. "Rose, I always drive! I'm the man, it's my…." Rose's glare cut him off mid-sentence. "What I meant to say was, it would be my pleasure to ride with you! Yes! I'd love to! Love to see you drive, because I've never had that pleasure!" He was frantically trying to dig himself out of the hole he had just created, and Rose's look indicated she knew it. "Yes, have to let you drive more often. Oh! I have just the place! Hogyutdti'sgow! Lovely cars. Well, not really cars. Kind of…well, tricycles. But on air. And with horses. But they're not horses, more like a rabbit crossed with a horse…"

Rose let him ramble on as she searched the street for Alfred's car. It would have been nice for Jackie to tell her where Alfred had actually left the thing. After craning her neck back and forth, she finally spied the vehicle lurking halfway down the block. Really, the car shouldn't have been that hard to miss, the hideous green bringing to mind the colour of toxic waste dumps or Slitheens. "Well, here we are."

The Doctor shied like a frightened animal as Rose gestured to the monstrosity in front of him. "This? We're meant to take this to a wedding? We're dressed far too nicely for this."

"Doctor. You took me for a ride on a blue Vespa. I don't think a green Fiesta is going to cramp your style."

"But the colour! It's making my eyes bleed!"

"Oh, do shut it and get in. We're running late." Rose opened the car door and plonked down into the driver's seat. As the Doctor gingerly opened the door and daintily lowered himself down into the car, Rose familiarised herself with the vehicle, feet pumping the pedals and left hand running the gears through their range before deciding she was ready to set out.

As soon as they took off, he pointed out there was a better way to do it. She shot him a look and he said no more. That did not stop him from flinching or sucking air between his teeth anytime she did anything. Before he could stop himself he was fiddling. He adjusted the thermostat, he changed the radio, and he discovered what every button on the console on the primitive machine calling itself a car did. Rose just shook her head and batted him away when appropriate. Then when he ran out of buttons, he started fiddling with Rose.

Their relationship had become much more than Time Lord/companion soon after he had regenerated. They had yet to define what it was they had. And maybe because of that, they had yet to move on to anything besides kissing and touches that wouldn't quite be called groping. It worked out well as this body seem to crave contact. He got to indulge this new found quirk with her and she didn't seem to mind the least little bit. Except now. He traced lines up and down her arm; she flicked him away with her elbow. He ran a finger down her neck; she calmly removed it. He placed a hand on her knee and started to move it upward; without looking, she said, "Don't even think about it." He huffed and crossed his arms. He could see her watching him out of the corner of her eye. "You're cute when you pout."

"Yes, well, wedding eh? Let's hope it goes better than the last one we went to." He meant it as a joke and she knew it but the hurt that crossed her face made him want to kick himself. "I'm sorry. That was heartless. I didn't mean…"

"I know. I'll just be sure to turn down any offer to hold a baby, yeah?" She smiled at him timidly.

"Well, it wouldn't cause the end of the world. Might soil the dress though. I forgot to tell you, you look lovely."

"Thanks." She pulled them into a half-full car park. "We're here. Just need to get these shoes on and I'll be ready."

"Hold that thought." He jumped out of his side and rushed over to hers. "Spin 'round please and give me one of those." He pointed to a sandal. He took it from her and carefully slid it on her foot and securing the buckle, adjusting each little strap as he went. He then repeated the process on the other foot.

"Blimey, I feel a bit like Cinderella. Hope the TARDIS doesn't turn into a pumpkin at midnight. Though if you ever fixed that chameleon circuit, it might."

"Don't mock my ship."

"I'm not. I'm mocking its driver!"

"Rose Tyler, your cheek will get you into trouble one day."

"And you'll be there to get me out of it."

"Yes, I will. Now, shall we?"

She got out of the car and had to bend over to get her purse. He saw a group of lads watching her and like any normal male he pulled her to him and gave her a quick kiss when she stood back up. He then let his arm stay about her waist, letting a hand drift a bit lower (which once again was not a possessive gesture). He gave the boys a triumphant smile and they went into the church.

Jackie saw them and waved them over. "You've only just made it! Mo's beautiful." Jackie sniffed wistfully before turning her gaze to the Doctor. "You! I'll trouble you to keep quiet and behave during this. None of your mile-a-minute babbling or any such!" The Doctor affected an air of wounded innocence. Giving him a look that showed she wasn't fooled Jacked moved off, gesturing for Rose and the Doctor to follow.

Reaching what Jackie indicated were their seats, the Doctor gently guided Rose before him, keeping his hand on the small of her back longer than was strictly necessary. Rose smiled up at him as she scooted down the pew to make room for him, before turning her attention to the programme they had received upon entering the church. No sooner had they sat down than the processional music began.

As everyone stood up to watch Cousin Mo begin her walk down the aisle, the Doctor leaned over and began to whisper in Rose's ear. "You know, Earth is the only planet where the bride wears white. Of course, not all Earth cultures use white, either, but generally speaking. On krip'ka'for, the bride actually wears an elaborate pattern of leaves from the grumt' bush..." The Doctor trailed off as he caught Jackie glaring at him. Rose smiled and grabbed his hand as she leaned in to him.

The Doctor managed to remain quiet for a full five minutes before once again leaning over to whisper to Rose. "You humans certainly do like your pomp and ceremony, though, don't you? It's not just the church thing today, though. No, you have the hen nights and the stag parties—been to more than a few of those back in the UNIT days, but best not talk about that—and then the bridal registry and shower. And of course the big church 'do, and the licence and the blood tests, and then off to the honeymoon! Isn't it enough just to say the vows and be done with it?" He looked down at Rose, still leaning against him.

She blinked, momentarily caught in the depths of the Doctor's rich brown eyes before catching what he had said. "Typical bloke," she muttered before pausing briefly again. She continued. "It's for the families and friends as much as for the couple, you know. Surely that's not just an Earth—human—thing?" Rose 's body was pressed closely against the Doctor so she could keep her voice as soft as possible, her hand playing with his as she looked up at him.

Her look was so open and trusting, with evening light filtered through stained glass combining with the candlelight to soften Rose's features and make her glow. The Doctor felt his hearts skip a beat, and had to swallow before he could reply. "Well I mean, there's always a ceremony. Lots of pomp, even. But not quite like this; not this huge...thing, like you lot do!" The Doctor gestured wildly with his empty hand, once again drawing a quelling glance from Jackie. "Most places, the exchange of vows is quite enough. The couple makes promises in front of the local official of choice, that's that. Of course, there's the odd mating ritual or dance—on Tud/ispw, they actually yodel—but otherwise it's surprisingly consistent. You humans, though-" Jackie, deciding glares weren't enough, poked the Doctor, cutting him off. He sulkily ended his lecture and leaned back as Rose bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Through the rest of the ceremony, the Doctor showed Herculean effort in keeping quiet, although Rose noted he avidly watched not just the couple at the front, but the congregants. He seemed fascinated by the ritual of the ceremony, and Rose was certain he'd have no end of questions once they were out from under her mother's watchful gaze. Upon learning that Cousin Mo's real name was Morannon, however, the Doctor felt compelled to mutter "No wonder she goes by Mo! Did her parents hate her that much?" Rose gently punched his shoulder, and he went back to paying rapt attention to the ceremony.

By the end of the ceremony, the Doctor was fairly bouncing with energy. Having to sit relatively still and quiet for as long as he had had made him restless and he was brimming with questions. As the newly married couple walked up the aisle and out the doors, he turned to Rose. "First Earth wedding I've been to, really—well, the first one that wasn't interrupted." He paused awkwardly, the memories of that day in the church with Rose once again washing over him. Rose tentatively smiled.

"No Reapers. I think we can consider it a success."

"I think so." He smiled back at her, before once again lightly placing his hand at the small of her back as they left the pew and headed towards the front of the church.

Upon reaching the doors, they queued to offer their congratulations to Mo and her new husband, Andy. Rose got a hug from Mo, as well as a compliment on the dress, before the bride turned expectantly to the Doctor. Rose looked panicked as the Doctor smoothly extended his hand. "I'm the Doctor. Lovely wedding, so glad we made it in time. Fascinating ceremony, first I've been to. Well, sort of. Love what you did with the flowers! Best wishes and all that!" His rapid-fire delivery briefly stunned the happy couple, providing him an opportunity to guide Rose away and down the stairs of the church...only to once again be waved over by Jackie.

He momentarily considered not going over to her, but Rose was already marching in her direction, so he followed in her wake reluctantly.

When they got close enough, Jackie leaned over and swatted him across the arm.

"Oi!" he exclaimed, wounded, rubbing at his arm. "That was uncalled for."

"I told you no mile-a-minute babbling. But did you listen? No." She turned to Rose. "Can I have a ride with you? Give Mo and Andy a bit of alone time."

"Sure," said Rose, negligently, heading toward the car. The Doctor followed behind, not so that he could admire the view of Rose's bottom, of course. "You'll just need to tell me where to go. I don't have directions."

This gave the Doctor pause. "Directions?" he echoed. "What d'you mean? Aren't we going home?"

She didn't know if he meant the TARDIS or the flat. But she did know that he was including her in his definition of "home." "Home" was someplace she was. She turned and beamed at him.

He blinked at her. "What? Well, aren't we?"

"Don't be daft," Jackie told him, as Rose, still beaming, opened the car door. "We have to go to the reception now."

"Reception? Reception?" he sputtered. "You mean there's more? Why are human weddings so long? Wait!" he cried, bounding over to where Jackie was opening the passenger door.

She looked at him in annoyed bewilderment. "What?"

"That's my seat."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Be a gentleman for once."

The Doctor contemplated his options. Sitting in the back did not appeal to him. For one thing—the most important thing—he would not be able to touch Rose. Well, that much. But if he didn't take the back seat, he had a feeling Jackie would hit him in some way. Sighing in defeat, he clambered into the back seat, which was tiny. But interesting.

"The perspective's totally different back here," he remarked, happily.

"Good," said Rose. "I'm glad." She glanced at him in the rear view mirror, hoping that would be enough to keep him content during the car ride.

Jackie began giving directions as they pulled away from the church. She and Rose began chatting amiably about the wedding, the dresses, the hairstyles. The Doctor listened, not at all interested.

"You know what I just remembered?" he blurted out, interrupting Jackie's monologue on the bouquets.

"What's that?" asked Rose, patiently.

"It's the _third_ wedding we've been to together."

She met his eyes briefly in the rear view mirror. "The third?"

"You two make a habit of going to weddings together?" Jackie sniffed.

"No," answered the Doctor. "But we went to yours."

"You went to my wedding?" Jackie demanded of Rose.

"That's right. We did." She glanced at her mother. "I wanted to see it."

"Why didn't you say anything to me?"

"Mum. What was I going to say? 'You're going to have a daughter. She's me. And twenty years from now I'm going to meet an alien with a time machine.'"

"It travels through space _and_ time," the Doctor corrected her. "And you were a beautiful bride," he said to Jackie matter-of-factly, in that way he had of delivering compliments, like they were nothing but the honest truth. They never failed to make Rose melt, those simple, powerful compliments he gave. She wondered if they would have the same impact on her mother. "It was the first time I really saw the resemblance between you and Rose," he continued, thoughtfully.

There was a moment of silence. "I don't know if that's a compliment or not," remarked Jackie.

"Compliment?" he scoffed. "It's the truth." And, because he couldn't resist, he reached out and tucked Rose's hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger, his finger tracing the shell of her ear, caressing the hoop of her earring.

He couldn't help but notice the blush carrying up her face to the ear but she made no attempt to move him away. Jackie, on the other hand, grabbed his wrist. "I don't know or want to know what you two are up to in that box of yours but I'll thank you to keep your hands to yourself in my presence!"

The chorus of "Sorry Jackie"/"Sorry Mum" filled the car. After a few turns, they arrived at the hall. Jackie was out of the car before they pulled to a complete stop. While the Doctor was climbing out of the back, Rose paused to once again replace her shoes.

"Now stop right there. You know full well that's my job!" He scrambled very inelegantly over and out and around to her. With the same care he showed before, he returned her sandals to her feet.

"Girl could get used to that." She cupped his cheek in her hand. He kissed her palm and offered her his hand. As he stood, he also lifted her to her feet. With her hand still on his cheek, she pulled him down so that their foreheads touched. "Thank you for doing this today."

He ran his free hand along her arm. "You're welcome." They stayed like that for a moment longer when he pulled and gave her his cheekiest grin. "But you owe me."

"Oh really? And how will I pay you back?" He started walking backwards, pulling the arms of the joined hands taut.

"I'll think of something." He yanked slightly so she started to follow him. "It will be something good though."

She ran a bit to catch up to him as he turned to walk straight. "Don't know if I like the sound of that."

He looked down at her and kissed her hair. "You will." He held the door for her and guided her in.


	2. Chapter 2

Rose knew her family could throw a party, but this one exceeded expectations. The room was gorgeous. All the tables were draped in simple white tablecloths and overlaid with gauzy fabric matching the colour of the bridesmaids' dresses. The centrepieces were comprised of flowers arranged around bowls of water holding floating candles.

"That's clever." She looked up the Doctor confused. "It's a theme. The elements. The flowers are earth, the candles, fire, the water is self-explanatory. I assume the air is taking care of itself."

For a moment she thought that no one she was related to could be that creative. But then she thought if a few years ago some one would have told her she'd be travelling through time and space in a police box that was bigger on the inside with an alien who she was madly in love with, she would have told them they were out of their gourd. Stranger things could and had happened. She walked over to the seating chart to find their spots, and was briefly relieved to find her mum was not with them when her expression became horrified. She touched his arm. "I'm so sorry."

"What? What's wrong?"

"Please just know now that I had nothing to do with this." She numbly led him to their table. He dutifully followed, if not a bit confused. They were heading in the direction of three kindly looking women who were obviously related. They were talking in hushed tones and completely lit up when he pulled out Rose's chair for her.

Before he could even start to sit they were on them like a pack of jackals, all talking at once. "Rose! It's lovely to see you dear. You really should keep in touch, especially with your mother. And just when do you plan on settling down? Have a family of your own. He looks like a likely candidate. This is the man you've been 'travelling' with?" They started poking and prodding him. "He's a bit on the skinny side. Pale too. Freckles, clear sign of sun damage, shame. The hair's a bit of a mess. Does clean up very nicely however. What's with the shoes though? Are those trainers? Honestly, have you ever! What is it he does? Well, speak up, what do you do? Must be quite comfortable if he can afford to take you gallivanting around the globe. And just where did that money come from? Old money or are you a free loader off your parents? Speaking of, just who are your parents then love? Good stock? Your children will stand a good chance to be tall. Doomed to be brunette though. Brown eyes too, don't you think? Well, could be worse I suppose. The pair of you are very attractive and should pass those genes on. Why haven't you asked her yet? Scared of commitment I bet. Typical. You'll do though." They continued their tirade, shoved in his seat and left in a clucking huddle.

He looked like a hurricane had hit him. "What was that?"

"Those are my great aunts, the Prentice Pariahs or the Terrible Trio as they are called behind their backs. They are sisters and old maids who deem it necessary to be in everyone's business and think the rest of the world of a certain age should be married and popping out children, even though none of them have done that. Unfortunately we are stuck with them through dinner. Though it seems they got most of it out of their system already. Could have been worse I suppose."

He wondered how that could possibly be. As he recovered a couple came up to them. Rose smiled. "Hello Auntie Saffron, Uncle Richard. How are you doing?" They chatted a bit when Auntie Saffron made it clear she wanted an introduction. "Oh, um, right, this is…" She was at a total loss.

He picked up the slack. "Smith. John Smith. Doctor John Smith." It didn't escape his notice that both the aunt and uncle visibly brightened at the word 'doctor'. "Pleased to meet you."

"So you're Rose's mysterious man." Rose was sure he would run scared. Instead he smiled and placed his arm around the back of her chair.

"Yes I am." They beamed at each other. Soon, a steady stream of relatives were clamouring for their own time with him. He knew he was being sized up. This was quickly becoming something resembling domestic. And yet he didn't want to be anywhere else. So, instead of having the instinct to flee, he pulled Rose closer to him and spoke with anyone who wanted to.

The Terrible Trio returned when dinner was announced. They made it clear they would be spending the whole of the meal watching him and whispering to each other. As a plate was set in front of him, he frowned. "What's this?"

Rose gave a brief glance and saw he had the same dish she did. "It's dinner. More specifically, it's some sort of chicken, I think."

"But what about the cake?"

"What about it?"

"I thought that's what you humans do at these things. You eat cake. I was expecting cake."

"The cake comes later. We politely eat this badly mass-produced meal and then there are the toasts, maybe some dancing, then there's the to-do with the cake. See? Over there?" She pointed to a towering mass of icing. "We have to look at how pretty the cake is first, then they might give a bit of speech and then they cut the cake, possibly smashing it on each other. Oh, I hope they don't do that, I hate that. Then they will dismantle the pretty cake, hack it to bits and we'll get to eat it."

"Fine. I guess I can wait," he leaned in and whispered in her ear, "though that's an awful lot of reverence for a baked good. Is one allowed to approach the cake, have an audience with it?"

Before she could stop herself, she giggled, earning dirty looks from the others at the table. "Yes, you may look at the cake. Some people even take pictures of it, not sure why. But eat first, or at least wait until others have."

"Alright then." They tucked in, both making it look like they ate more than they actually did. As was now their custom, they anticipated each other's needs. Rose would pass the Doctor the salt before he asked. He buttered her roll after his own. She picked up his napkin as it slid off his lap before it even touched the ground. He was in the process of refilling her wine glass when he noticed their tablemates grinning at him. "What?"

"Oh nothing, love." The sisters huddled together and were even more atwitter than they were before. He shrugged it off when he heard a clinking sound.

He turned to Rose. "Now what?"

"I believe it's time for the trying-to-be-witty-but-really-just-embarrassing speeches. The best man, sometimes the maid of honour, sometimes the fathers of the groom and bride say something. You know, a toast."

They listened and politely laughed at the appropriate places and applauded at the ends. When that was over, people started mingling. Rose looked at him twitching but trying to behave. "Go on. Go meet the cake."

"Thank you!" He kissed her cheek and went to inspect THE CAKE. He put on his specs and circled the concoction. It was a bit garish for his tastes and he wasn't sure why anyone would put ball bearings on something edible, couldn't be good for the teeth. He discreetly picked one off and stuck it in his mouth. His face lit up like a Christmas tree as he tasted it. That was possibly the most wonderful thing ever. Edible ball bearings! He wasn't sure he had ever loved the human race as much as he did in that moment. He was about to run over and share his discovery with Rose when he over heard a gaggle of girls around Rose's age.

"So, have you picked your spot?" "Oh yeah, slightly off the side, second row." "True, that Mo has quite the arm on her. May not be the best to be upfront centre." "I've been to three weddings this year, haven't caught the bouquet yet."

He went back to the table to inform Rose what he had heard, placing the glasses back in his pocket. "What's that about then?"

"It's a tradition. All the single women get in a group and try to catch the bride's bouquet. It's supposed to mean they get married next. The men try to catch the bride's garter." 

"Have you picked your spot yet?"

"Oh, I'm not going to do it."

"Why not?"

She couldn't meet his eye. "Well, that's for women who haven't found what they are looking for. They think they're defined by whether or not they have a man. I just think it's possible to be with the man they want to be with and not lose themselves. I'm where I want to be, who I want to be with and who I want to be. And even if I didn't have you, I think I would be the same person."

She looked up to find him beaming. "Rose Tyler, you are fantastic. I don't think anyone could change who you are. I know I don't want to. And I know I would be the same person without you, well, almost, but I don't want to find out." He suddenly stood and banged his knife against his glass.

"Can I have your attention?" The hubbub in the room quieted down at the traditional sound of someone wanting to make a toast. "Thank you. I just wanted to say; this day full of traditions means so much more than that. I hope that the lovely couple remembers that they are in for more than wedding, but a marriage. And that marriage is more than a few exchanged words and a signed piece of paper. Marriage is sharing and compromise and knowing each other better than they know themselves." He looked at Rose. "It's a partnership in every sense of the word. It about being more than just a 'plus one', though that's important. So, everyone raise your glass to becoming one with each other without losing yourself. After all, it's better with two."

A cheer went up in the room and everyone drank. Everyone but two. The one that was seated had unshed tears in her eyes. The one standing brushed her cheek and leaned down to kiss her gently, letting it tell her he meant every word. He took her hand and sat down. They were vaguely aware of the music starting around them. "We're missing the first dance."

He realised she was talking. "What's that?"

"The first dance at a reception is also the first dance of the couple as man and wife. Then the rest of the guests are invited to join."

"I like that. Very festive." They turned and watched the proceedings. "Will I get to dance with you then?"

"If you ask nicely."

He was about to do that when one of her uncles swept her away to the floor. While he was disappointed, he couldn't deny her time with her family since he got the rest of it. He watched and tapped his foot while she was passed from one man to another, more than ready to cut in if need be. However, she seemed to be happy.

He took a look around the room. He wasn't sure if he should smile or roll his eyes at Jackie, who was well on her way to a terrific hangover. She was currently on a chair, waving her arms wildly above her. His eyes kept sweeping across the room when he saw a little girl trying to blend in with the wallpaper. He made his way over to her.

"Hello! I'm Rose's friend. Do you know Rose?"

In the quietest voice possible she answered. "Yes sir. She's my cousin. My name is Emma."

"Well Emma, I'm the Doctor. Pleased to meet you. Why aren't you out there dancing with everyone else?"

"Because I'm not pretty enough. No one wants to dance with someone like me. I wear glasses."

"Well, I wear glasses." He put them on. "See? Do you think anyone would want to dance with me?"

"Of course they would. That's just silly to think otherwise!"

"But the one person I want to dance with says she won't."

She looked at him in total disbelief. "Who wouldn't want to dance with you?!"

"The prettiest girl in the room. Her name is Emma."

"But my name is Emma."

"That's right but you won't dance with me."

"I don't know how."

"I can help with that. Stand on my feet and hold my hands." With a bit of manoeuvring they got into position. He swayed her back and forth and she beamed at him.

When Rose had finally freed herself from what seemed like every man in the room, she went to find the one she hadn't danced with. The sight she found did funny things to her insides. She just sat and watched the Doctor completely charm her shiest, most introverted cousin. Emma looked as if she would float with happiness if he let her go. When the song ended he kissed the backs of both of Emma's hands and whispered something to her. She nodded vigorously and ran off into to the crowd.

He put his hands in his pockets and started to head back to Rose, who did the only thing that made sense to her in that moment. She met him halfway and snogged the dickens out of him.

"What was that for?" He was bewildered but happy.

"For being you."

"Well, I think I'll keep doing that then. Do you have room on your dance card, Miss Tyler?"

"I think I might."

"Come on then." He took her hand and started to lead her to the floor when they heard Jackie bellowing.

"He is though! At Christmas, poof, whole new but old man. Speaking of old, he's over 900! And he's an alien. From outer space! And he travels time and space in a police public call box! And it's bigger on the inside! And…"

Rose briefly considered panicking and tightly gripped the Doctor's hand, prepared to drag him with her to tackle and gag her mum. A quick look around, however, convinced her that there was no need--most of the guests had seen Jackie piss drunk before, and figured she was once again making up stories. Rose even overheard one of the guests stage-whisper "Has Jackie gotten into some drugs? I had no idea she had such an imagination!" The Doctor, too, had overheard, and turned to Rose with a smile.

"Glad to see your mum is...well, being your mum." Rose playfully batted his arm. "What? I would have been more surprised if she'd stayed sober at a soiree like this. Soiree." He savoured the word, rolling the vowels around like sweets. "Fabulous word, that. Far better than 'bash' or 'party' or even 'hootenanny' although that's a fun word on its own. There's always 'shindig' as well, although that's very American. 'Fiesta'? No, that's a car..."

Rose laughed, delighted. She loved it when he was like this, happily nattering on about just about anything. "I'll be right back—I want to get mum off that chair before she takes a fall." The Doctor's face fell as Rose released his hand and started to walk away. She looked back over her shoulder. "You still owe me that dance—I haven't forgotten!" He beamed as she turned to take care of her mother, stopping next to Jackie and gently suggesting that she might make better conversation from floor level.

Taking advantage of Rose's temporary distraction, he strolled over to the deejay. After a brief, whispered conversation during which he kept his eyes on Rose, the Doctor returned to where Rose had left him. Hands in his pockets he rocked back on his heels, well-pleased with himself. Rose had managed to get Jackie back to standing on the floor, and was talking to her in hushed tones as the Prentice Pariahs circled like sharks. Perhaps piranhas would be the better term, to keep the alliteration theme? He pondered the thought, enjoying watching Rose mother her mum.

The strong beats of the 80's pop tune that had been playing slowly faded out, and were replaced with the sound of big-band brass and reeds. The Doctor could tell the instant Rose recognized the music, turning around and catching his eye with an arched brow. He tried to focus on keeping his face neutral and innocent, but couldn't resist grinning as she completely forgot about her mum and walked slowly over to him.

"Did you do this?"

"Do what?"

"Ask them to play this song?"

"When would I have had time to do that, what with being interrogated by your relatives and paying due respects to the High Hallowed Wedding Cake, and then you leaving me and talking your mother down off that chair?"

"You did!"

"Maybe." He took her hand. "May I have this dance, Miss Tyler?"

Rose giggled, blushing as he led her to the dance floor. The bright strains of "In the Mood" filled the reception hall, the happy and recognizable tune luring many couples to dance floor. Reaching the parquet surface, the Doctor wrapped one arm around Rose and used his other to clasp her hand as he began to lead her in time to the music.

Rose's eyes sparkled. "This was our first dance."

"Yup." He popped the 'p', happily dancing with Rose.

"You're a much better dancer this go 'round."

He looked offended. "I could dance last time."

"Not until you were jealous of Captain Jack."

"You said he was attractive! How d'you think that made me feel, all big ears and nose?"

"I liked the ears and nose! And you're the one who said you were too busy 'resonating concrete' to dance!"

"I was trying to keep us from becoming gas mask zombies, Rose!"

"You were scared."

"Was not."

"Were too. And then, when you saved Jack and he asked me to dance, you suddenly remembered how. Bit suspicious, that."

"I didn't have to worry about saving anyone and could think of frivolous things!" he pulled her in tightly before pushing her out into a complicated spin. Twirling her again, he pulled her back tight against his front, continuing to dance with his arms wrapped around her. He leaned down and whispered, "Besides, I knew you wouldn't dance with him. You were mine." He moved his hands and gave her one last twirl, returning her to their original position facing each other.

Rose was breathless, and not just from the dancing. Although it was against everything feminism had taught her, she loved his possessiveness, the intensity with which he stared at her, how he made her feel when he held her in his arms. She found herself staring at his lips, before looking back up into his eyes as she finally processed what he had said. "I was?"

"You were, and you are." He dipped her as the song ended, before bringing her back up for a lingering kiss.

Rose was frozen in place, the Doctor's words ringing in her ears. "I am?" she asked, dazedly.

"You are." The Doctor gathered her back into his arms as the gentle strains of 'Moonlight Serenade' began to play.

Rose sighed happily, leaning her head against his shoulder as he expertly guided her around the dance floor. "I love dancing with you." she murmured against his chest, and was rewarded by the feel of his lips against her hair. Growing dizzy, she raised her head; the Doctor's face was sombre, his eyes dark and serious as she looked up at him. "You ok?"

"Oh, yes. Quite." He smiled gently at her, his coal-dark eyes glowing with intensity.

Rose held his gaze for a moment before deciding it might be best to venture to safe ground; if he kept looking at her like that, she couldn't be held responsible for her actions in public.

"Thank you again for coming. I know you'd rather be doing something a bit more adventurous."

"Oh, I don't know. This day has had its share of monsters, you know." He grinned. "Your Aunts could give some of the scariest interrogators in the universe a run for their money!"

"I'll bear that in mind next time we're arrested." Rose replied wryly.

The Doctor pulled Rose in for a brief kiss as the music ended. Rather than a new song starting, couples started to leave the dance floor, causing the Doctor to look confused. "What's going on? Did we miss something? Has my hearing gone?" he pulled on his ear before hitting the side of his head with the heel of his hand, as though trying to clear water from his ear.

"No, silly. This is the bit you've been waiting for—the cake!"

The Doctor practically bounced with excitement, grabbing Rose's hand and pulling her towards where the cake was on prominent display. Mo and her husband were standing off to the side of the cake while a photographer snapped pictures non-stop, the other wedding guests standing in a semi-circle waiting for the cutting of the cake and, more importantly, the serving of dessert.

"Blimey, is there nothing they don't take pictures of? Who's going to look at all of these things, anyway?" Rose shushed the Doctor as the newlyweds jointly cut the cake, then delicately fed each other small pieces. The ritual complete, the guests applauded before wandering back to their assigned tables to await their pieces of the dessert.

"That's it? All that to-do for that? That's just silly. At least they could have done a song, or taken the cake for a dance. Honestly." The Doctor complained about the brevity of the cake-cutting ceremony as they picked their way across the floor and back to their table. He continued to grumble quietly as they sat at the table awaiting dessert, although he quieted down and looked quite hopeful as servers began to deliver pieces of the sweet to tables close to theirs. Rose was worried that he might actually grab one of the plates from a server if they weren't soon served, so eager was he for one. She lay a hand soothingly on the Doctor's thigh, causing him to tense and become stock still before turning to her with wide eyes.

"You'll get a piece soon enough." she whispered. The Doctors eyes grew wider, and his jaw went slack.

Rose leaned back as the small plates of cake were finally delivered to their table. Daintily unfolding her napkin and placing it in her lap, she noticed the Doctor still looking at her, eyes glazed. "What? Don't you want your cake?" He seemed to recollect himself, and eagerly turned to look at the smallish slice of cake in front of him.

"That huge cake and this is all we get? Are there seconds?" He picked up the plate and sniffed at the cake, before rotating the plate around to look at the dessert. Tilting the plate, he slowly drew his tongue across the frosted top, causing Rose's fork to halt mid-air and her lungs to temporarily cease functioning. He blinked and pulled a face before setting the plate back down. "It tastes like glue!" The Doctor used his fork to cut off a small piece, careful to avoid the offensive frosting, and expectantly tasted the forkful of spongy dessert. He immediately grimaced and frantically reached for a glass of water to wash the taste out of his mouth. "And that tastes like cardboard!" he practically whined, looking at the plate in front of him as though it had personally betrayed him. Rose had to stifle a giggle; his descriptions weren't far off the mark.

"Doctor, it's a wedding cake. They're not known for being tasty; they're all about being pretty."

He continued to frown at the plate. "Bit of false advertising, isn't it? It's all 'look at me, I'm so pretty, I'll be so tasty!' but then you get down beneath the surface and it's just...fluff. Not even fluff, at least fluff implies fun and tastiness. This was just...yucky." He pouted, mouth turning down at the corners and dimple appearing in his right cheek. Rose was fascinated by his eyelashes, contrasting against his fair skin as he looked down his nose at the disappointing cake. She jumped as the Doctor's mood suddenly shifted, his bright eyes looking over at Rose as though he had just made the most brilliant discovery. "But the decorations! Oh, I can still eat those—they're absolutely brilliant!" Rose smiled as he happily began to pick the small silver balls out of the cake in front of him, and then eat them one at a time. Having finished the small number he had, he looked over at Rose. "Could I have yours?" He didn't really wait for her assent before pulling her plate over to him.

"Go ahead," she sighed, watching him fondly as he hunted the silver balls. "Take the best things about the cake."

"Oh, did you want one?" he asked, with a brief frown, as if the thought had just occurred to him. He picked one up daintily with his fingers and held it out to her.

Rose sent him a wicked smile that gave him a moment's pause before she dove in and licked the silver ball off the pad of his index finger with a slide of her tongue that made him decide that these little silver balls were the most brilliant food items of all time.

"Do you want another one?" he asked, possibly a bit too eagerly.

She smiled at him. "No, you enjoy them."

The Doctor looked a tad disappointed, then quickly recovered. "We should buy some of these," he said. "Pick them up at the shop. While we're getting the milk. Don't forget we need milk. Might as well get it now. No reason to make another trip. Is that coffee?" he asked the waiter, brightly.

"Yes, sir—"

Rose put her hand over the Doctor's mug, preventing the waiter from pouring. "Is it decaf?"

"No, miss."

"Only decaf for him, please. Thanks."

The Doctor frowned as the waiter scurried away in search of decaf. "I'm not allowed to have coffee like normal people?"

"No, because you're not a normal person. A Time Lord with a sugar high is bad enough—" she looked pointedly at the silver balls he was eating –"but a Time Lord with a sugar high _and_ hyped up on caffeine…? I'm the one who's got to deal with that, you know."

The Doctor scowled. He looked immensely displeased. "It's not all Time Lords, you know."

"What?" she asked, blankly, not understanding him.

"Not all Time Lords act like me. Acted like me. With the sugar and the caffeine. That's just me. Not a Time Lord thing."

She realized her mistake, and tried to think how to make it better. "Oh. I didn't mean—"

He smiled abruptly, suddenly, moods swerving directions. "Let's dance."

"Dance?" she echoed, a bit off-balance.

He scraped his chair back as he stood, pulled her up. "Yes. I love this song." He pulled her out onto the dance floor. "Do you know this song?"

"Of course I know this song. This is my planet, you know."

"There is always something there to remind me," he sang at her, grinning hugely, as he twirled her away and then back to him.

He was a playful dancer, and, as anyone would have guessed upon meeting him, highly energetic. He quickly had her breathless, but, although she should have been focused on him, she found the words of the song leaking through to her. _Always something there to remind me_… And she wondered, about the fact that she never stumbled across things left over from other companions in the TARDIS. Did he keep _anything_? Was he ever reminded? Or was he reminded constantly, and that was why he kept nothing around? Because it wasn't necessary? She wondered how often she'd said something, some innocent turn of phrase that had made her sound like someone else that had made him remember someone he'd lost.

She dodged his guiding hands, abruptly, and fastened her hands into that gorgeous hair he had, and once again snogged him. It was a snog not quite fit for public consumption, a bit wet and messy and desperate, but it was the only thing she could think of to do to try to get him to understand that she would never leave him.

"What was that for?" he asked, in breathless shock, when she pulled away from him.

"Oh." She tried to catch her breath, thinking. _I love you. No, no, no, not enough. I'm in love with you. No, no, also not enough. I…_ She smiled at him. "No reason."

"We need to go to more weddings, you and I," he decided.

She laughed at him. "Yeah?"

"Absolutely."

"We can be intergalactic wedding crashers, yeah?"

He dipped her, laughing as well as he straightened them. "What else is a TARDIS for?"

Rose started to respond, when she was suddenly tugged out of his arms by a gaggle of her giggling cousins.

"Sorry, sorry," they chorused to the Doctor. "We need to borrow her. We'll bring her right back."

The Doctor stood, alone, on the dance floor for a moment, before going back to their table. He examined the plates of half-eaten cake that the other guests had left on the table, but there were no little silver balls to be found. Obviously everyone else recognized their brilliance as well.


	3. Chapter 3

"Here you are, Jackie. Rose's young man will take care of you." The Prentice Pariahs guided a mostly mobile Jackie into the seat next to him. "You'll watch her, won't you, love?" one of them said to him.

He looked at them, aghast. "Well, not reall—Hang on, is that coffee?" Because one of them had placed a silver pot down on the table next to Jackie's mug.

"Yeah," she affirmed. "Sober Jackie up a bit."

"Ah. Excellent. Yes, I'll watch her. How are you doing, Jackie?" he asked her, solicitously, reaching past her for the coffee pot. He smiled politely at the man who had slid into the seat across the table, eating a piece of cake. It was clearly the point in the evening where seating plans went out the window.

"She's in a bit of a bad way, isn't she?" he asked, nodding toward Jackie.

"Not at all," denied the Doctor, cheerfully. "Right as rain. You going to eat those little silver balls?"

The man stared at him. "What?"

"The little silver balls. On the cake," the Doctor clarified.

The man looked confused. "I—"

"Oh," said Jackie, blinking at the Doctor as if she'd just realized she'd been deposited next to him. "It's you. You're still here. I thought you'd be off in your spaceship by now."

The man across the table shouted laughter. "I thought I had mother-in-law problems. She thinks you're an alien."

"Bless her, she _is_ in a bit of a bad way," said the Doctor. "Jackie, why don't you have some of this delicious cake?" He pushed a plate in front of her.

"Where's Rose?"

"She—"

"Never mind. I wanted to talk to you anyway." Jackie focused on him fuzzily.

"Talk to me?" The Doctor made a face. "You really _are_ drunk. Since when do you want to talk to _me_?"

"She's never gonna leave you," Jackie announced.

The Doctor went still, watching her, hoping he looked casual, like he didn't really care. "What do you mean?"

"I thought it was a crush. Rose is young. You take her to all these exotic places. And look at you. Can't blame Rose one bit for having a crush on you. But it isn't a crush," Jackie reported, sadly. "She loves you."

"Does she? I mean, do you think so?" He thought he may have asked that a bit too quickly.

Jackie nodded, looking miserable. "It's the way she looks at you. Can't you tell? And she'll never leave you. You're it for her. You don't leave that. You don't… I mean, unless it's taken from you. I know, because I had that once, and then it… But she'll never leave you." Jackie smiled mistily, and then frowned. "And that's not fair, Doctor. Because you won't marry her, will you? Does your lot get married? And what about kids? What if Rose wants to have kids someday? Can she even have a baby with you? Will it be a freakish little alien baby?"

"She really hates you, mate, doesn't she?" asked the man, sympathetically.

The Doctor glared at him, turned his attention back to Jackie. Because he understood. He didn't need Jackie to list the reasons why everything with Rose was a potentially dangerous disaster for both of them. He knew all about that. And he wouldn't miss any of this time with her for the world. "Jackie, listen—"

"You need to promise me." She suddenly took his hands urgently.

"Promise you what?"

"You promised me once before that you would keep her safe. But that was just when you had her life in your hands. And now you've got something so much more important than just her life. _Please _don't break her heart."

The Doctor lowered his voice, spoke firmly and urgently, held Jackie's gaze. "Rose is the most precious thing to ever place its trust in me. I promise you I will never hurt her. Never. The only thing that could surpass your hatred of me if I hurt her is my hatred of myself if I hurt her. I promise you. I give you my word. Do you believe me?"

She looked up at him for a moment, then she beamed at the man across the table. "He's not a bad bloke, really. Loves my daughter a lot, clearly. Mind you, he's got a time machine, but has he ever offered to help me win the lottery? Nooooo—"

"Let's sober you up, Jackie," said the Doctor, heartily, pouring her more coffee. "Really," he said to the man across the table, who didn't look like he quite knew what to think. "She's hopeless—"

"Mum?" said Rose, in confusion.

"Oh! Rose!" Jackie turned to her, pleased. "It's okay. I've talked to him, and he loves you."

"Talked to who?"

"The Doctor."

Rose looked at him, shocked. "What?"

"Um." The Doctor scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward. "Do you know what you're not going to like? Look! I'm drinking real coffee!"

Rose looked torn between pursuing the interesting topic of whether or not he loved her and stealing the coffee cup out of his hand. The deejay interrupted her, calling for everyone to take their seats so the groom could retrieve the garter.

Rose sat on the other side of him, primly taking the coffee cup away from him. "What's she babbling about?" she asked him, softly.

"Nothing, it's—Where'd you go?"

Second awkward subject change. Rose decided that could only mean that he _had_ said he loved her. Or something close to it. Smiling at him, Rose allowed him the safer topic. "Oh, there's a plan, to make sure my cousin Louise catches the bouquet. She's engaged, so she's next up. Some of the girls needed a bit of convincing on that one."

"But I thought you didn't need the bouquet if you—"

"She doesn't need it. That's why she won't fight for it, and why they'll have to just give it to her."

"It's a bit mad, all this…ritual. Ceremony. It's empty. It doesn't mean anything. It's like…like names, right? What does any of this tell you? You don't even know why you're doing it. The bit with the cake, the cake that tastes _awful_, the throwing of the bouquet…" The Doctor watched idly as the bride sat on a chair in the middle of the dance floor, arranging her skirts around her.

"You're wrong about that," Rose told him, maybe more sharply than she had intended, because he looked at her in surprise. "It's very important. Maybe it's not important to _you_. But to us humans, we need ceremony. Some things, some concepts—" Rose gestured to the newlyweds on the dance floor –"are too much for us to express, without some grand gesture."

"And that's what all this is?" he asked, curiously. "A grand gesture?"

"Yes."

The Doctor looked back at the dance floor, where the bride was holding out her leg to the groom. "What's he going to do now?"

"Take off her garter."

The groom, with a dramatic flourish, flipped the skirt over his head and disappeared underneath it, causing the bride to giggle and the guests to applaud in bawdy delight.

The Doctor pulled out his glasses and put them on and leaned forward. "How's he taking it off?" he asked, in wonder.

Rose watched him, amused. "With his teeth."

"_This_ gesture I approve of," the Doctor announced.

Rose laughed as the groom emerged with the garter triumphantly between his teeth. He tossed it into the crowd of waiting men.

The bride threw her bouquet with not much fanfare, and, according to Rose, all went as planned and it was caught by Louise.

"Although," remarked the Doctor, "if you'd want to make the gesture really meaningful, you'd give it to Emma." The Doctor nodded to where Emma was once again sitting rather shyly by herself.

"You're right," said Rose. "And you're sweet." She kissed the top of his head, ignoring the look on his face, as she stood. "Be right back." She went off to talk to Louise, and together they presented Emma with the bouquet. Emma beamed at the attention, and Rose, smiling, turned back to return to the Doctor. And she stopped. Because Jackie had passed out, directly onto the Doctor, slumped against him, her head on his shoulder. The Doctor was sitting stiffly, clearly hoping not to disturb her.

Rose felt strangely close to crying. How adorably domestic: her Doctor, in his tuxedo and incongruous trainers, drinking coffee even though she'd told him not to, with her mother passed out on his shoulder. Who would have predicted?

She cleared her head, walked over to him. "It's time to go home."

He brightened. "Really?"

She nodded and shook her mother awake. "Come on, Mum. Let's get you to the car."

Jackie blinked blearily and struggled to her feet. Between the two of them, they got her out to the car. Rose made to put her in the passenger seat but the Doctor shook his head.

"No way," he said. "She won't even appreciate the passenger seat. It's the back seat for her."

Jackie crawled into the back seat obediently and immediately passed out again.

Rose took off her shoes and tossed them toward the Doctor with a sigh of relief. "Thank God. My feet were killing me."

"Well, you looked beautiful," he told her, as he undid his bowtie.

She sent him a smile as she started the car. "Thanks," she said, and pulled away from the curb.

The Doctor watched her drive in the semi-darkness, street lights every once in a while gilding her hair silvery gold. He experienced a curious sensation of having too many words to say and yet not enough all at the same time.

"Can we stay here for the night?" she asked, after a bit. "I mean, twenty-first century London. I want to make sure she's alright tomorrow morning."

"Rose," he said.

His voice sounded strange. She slanted him a quizzical glance. "Isn't that okay?"

"Isn't what okay?"

"Staying here tonight."

"It's fine. Rose." He shifted in his seat. "What you were saying…About humans needing gestures…I'm not especially good at gestures…I mean, that is to say, not that I'm not _good_ at them, just that I don't always remember the need for them…or _your _need for them, I guess I should say, more accurately—"

"Doctor—" she interrupted him.

"I have a gesture for you, Rose Tyler. When you said, before, when we were stuck on that rock and we thought we'd lost the TARDIS, when you mentioned the mortgage, the same mortgage, with the house with the windows and the doors and the carpets…I would get a mortgage with you, Rose Tyler. I would. I think you got the impression that I wouldn't, but, I mean, if I had to get a mortgage, if it ever came to that, it would have to be a mortgage with you. I could never get one otherwise."

He lapsed into silence, watching her. She kept her eyes on the road and blinked furiously. "You daft git," she said, finally.

He started. "What?"

"You don't make gestures when the other person's _driving_. Bloody hell." She sniffled and hastily wiped her hand over her eyes.

He gaped at her. "You're not upset, are you?"

She half-laughed. "No. Quite the opposite of that, believe me." She looked at him then and smiled brilliantly. "Thank you for the gesture."

He smiled back, pleased, picked up her hand and intertwined it with his and kissed at her knuckles. He would have been content to nuzzle her hand for the rest of time, except that she said, "I need my hand back."

"For what?"

"To drive," she told him, as she pulled it free and downshifted.

"See? I don't like cars. I've had enough of travelling in cars. You drive in the TARDIS, you can do anything you like with your hands. No more cars for us, Rose."

"Fine. No more cars. What are the things you'd like to do with your hands when you're driving the TARDIS?"

"Welllll," he drawled, thoughtfully, and then glanced over his seat at her mother. "I'm not quite sure she's sleeping."

"She's sleeping," she assured him, dryly.

"Nevertheless, I'm rather fond of this regeneration. I'll tell you what I'd like to do with my hands later."

"Do you promise?"

"Cross my hearts."

Rose chuckled as she pulled the car into the estate, then she and the Doctor wrestled her mother up and into the flat. Rose undressed her mum and put her to bed, and then undressed herself, gratefully peeling off the red lace dress and uncoiling into sweatpants and a T-shirt. She was glad that she was past the phase where she worried about the Doctor seeing her when she was dressed to something less than the nines.

She walked out of her bedroom into the living room, where the Doctor had turned out all the lights and was sitting on the couch watching television.

She stood in the doorway and watched him for a minute. "You don't need to stay, you know. You can sleep in the TARDIS."

He didn't look away from the television. "You're staying here, aren't you? To watch your mother?"

"Yeah," she affirmed.

"Then I'll stay here." He paused. "The couch is fine. I'm not tired, anyway."

She moved into the room. He'd gone back to the TARDIS to change, and was back in brown pinstripes. Only to the Doctor was a suit comfortable loungewear. She cuddled next to him on the couch. He lifted his arm automatically to fit her more snugly against him.

"What're you watching?" she asked.

"This man can tell me how to make a fortune out of my very own home for a minimal time investment, if I just send him a bit of money for his book. You humans and your get-rich-quick schemes. Adorable." He planted a kiss on the top of her head.

"Yeah, too bad we don't all have sonic screwdrivers that work at every cash point in time and space."

"Not my fault I'm more advanced than you."

"Yeah." She sat, listening to the double rhythm of his hearts under her ear, watching the inane infomercial. How could he have no attention span at all and yet patiently watch this? She thought of his gesture, in the car, of her mother saying to her at the wedding, _He loves you_. She turned her nose into him, breathed for a second. "Doctor," she said.

"Hmm."

"You know what you were saying? About gestures?"

"What about them?"

"You had one for me. I have one for you."

"What's that?"

She stood, held his eyes. He looked at her expectantly, lifted his eyebrows a bit.

And then she took her T-shirt off.

"Oh," he said, on an outrush of breath.

She pushed off her sweatpants and knickers, stepped away from them. He drank her in.

Then he said, "Your mother—"

She put her hands on her hips. Even naked, his Rose was quite forbidding when he'd done something wrong. "That's what you're thinking about? My mother?"

He paused. "No," he amended. "No, quite right. Not at all. Let's go back in time. Can we go back in time? You said, 'I have one for you,' and then I said, 'What's that?' and then I said…"

She walked over to him, smiling, and deposited herself on his lap. He'd gone casual, for him--no tie, which was a bit disappointing after the fantasies she'd had about his tie. But she undid the one button he'd negligently buttoned on his jacket and pushed it off him, then pressed her lips to his. "You said, 'Rose, you're beautiful,'" she said against his mouth.

"You're magnificently beautiful," he concurred, breathlessly. "Wait a second." He reached for the coat that was now behind him, fumbled for the sonic screwdriver, and, before she could ask him what he was doing with that, he pointed it at the lamp, lighting it. "Better," he said. "I need to see."

"See--?"

"Hold on." He held up a hand to silence her, tipping his head and studying her breasts critically. "I take it back. You're not beautiful. There isn't a word in this paltry language of yours for what you are."

She smiled at him, then unbuttoned his shirt and frowned at the shirt underneath it. "Can we agree that you wear fewer layers from now on?" she asked.

"You're…" He trailed off.

She traced her finger over his lips. "My Doctor," she whispered, staring into his eyes for a moment. And then she grinned. "Are you actually at a loss for words?"

"I was wrong," he said, in amazement

"I'll be sure to note the time," she assured him, indulgently. "What were you wrong about?"

"I thought my life was good before."

She leaned her forehead against his and threaded her fingers into his hair. "Do you know what you say now?"

"Tell me," he whispered.

"Absolutely nothing," she whispered back.

And then Rose showed the Doctor what life was really like at its pinnacle. Its zenith. Its best.


End file.
